


What I Know Now (I Wish I Knew Then)

by lostinanotherworld24



Series: Clay Spenser: A Study in Dumbass [4]
Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Are we really surprised at this point, Clay Spenser Whump, Clay Spenser is a Dumbass, Concussions, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt Clay Spenser, Mentions of Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24829153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinanotherworld24/pseuds/lostinanotherworld24
Summary: Okay, maybe Clay should have listened when Jason told them not to go cliff-diving.He recognizes that now.
Series: Clay Spenser: A Study in Dumbass [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777708
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	What I Know Now (I Wish I Knew Then)

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic! I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for reading! Don't forget to leave a review! 
> 
> Warning for non-explicit mentions of blood and injuries, although nothing gory.

Okay,  _ maybe  _ Clay should have listened when Jason told them not to go cliff-diving. 

He recognizes that now. 

High above him, Sonny is a dot against the blue sky. The world blurs together, and Clay dips his head a little and cusses, gently combing through his blonde curls for the gash he knows is there. Touching it is like sticking a fork in a socket, and pain scorches his spine and head. Even though he’s a hard-ass, tough-as-nails Navy SEAL, he can’t help the fact that his back arches with the force of it or that he whimpers just a little. 

The world fuzzes out, and the next thing he feels is a gentle hand drifting along his shoulders. He opens his eyes into the bright sunshine, and pain spikes behind his eyes so bad he has to shut them again immediately. A moment later, Sonny’s voice breaks through the haze, loud as clanging cymbals, even though it’s as quiet as the Texan ever gets. 

“You okay, pretty boy? Damn, but you hit the water hard. Oh,  _ fuck _ , you’re bleeding.” 

Clay cracks open an eye and sees that Sonny’s hand is covered in scarlet dripping onto the white sand. Nausea roils through his stomach, and he turns so he won’t splatter Sonny when he throws up. 

He loses a little bit of time again because the next thing he registers is the unfamiliar hands touching him, jostling and poking and prodding. He fights them off as best as he can, but that proves challenging when everything hurts so bad he could cry. Over the layer of other people’s voices, he hears Sonny, although his words come in fits and starts and don’t make much sense. 

_ “Jason...beach...cliff…he’s hurt...ambulance...hospital….trying...fight…”  _

__ A needle pricks his leg, and then everything fades to black. 

XXXX 

There was only one other time in his life that Jason can remember being this livid. 

And that involved Sonny too. 

Sonny forgot they had an important meeting with the Brass, and showed up an hour late, wasted out of his mind, with his shirt half-unbuttoned, and a trail of glitter swept down his chest. The Brass had  _ not  _ been impressed, to say the least, and it was honestly a miracle that Sonny didn’t lose his trident that day. Or that Jason didn’t beat him to death in the parking lot. It had been close in both cases. 

Jason can’t guarantee that today won’t end with him handing out parking lot beatings. 

Sonny’s slumped in a chair when they arrive, baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. Rhythmically his foot taps against the sterilized tile, and his fingers tangle and untangle in his lap. He looks like a kid waiting outside the principal’s office, and Jason’s not so heartless that he can’t squeeze the younger man’s shoulder in some sort of reassurance. 

Even if he’s not sure how much good it does. 

As soon as he stands, Sonny starts babbling words, although he does sound marginally better than he did on the phone. 

“Boss, this is my fault. The damn kid wanted to go, even though you said no. I shoulda stopped him.” 

“When Clay wants something, there’s little a thing in the world that can stop him,” Jason reminds him and then drops into a hard plastic chair the color of evergreen trees. 

A half-hour later, the doctor comes out, pens in his coat pocket, and a stethoscope looped around his neck. He tugs a surgical mask off his face, and shoves it into his pocket, revealing a face that holds no hint of apprehension or anxiety, which gives Jason just the slightest bit of hope. 

“Family of Petty Officer Spenser?” 

None of them bother correcting him as they stand and shake his hand. 

“I’m Doctor Kelly Thomas, and I’m the one who treated the Petty Officer when he came in. We ran some tests, including an MRI and a CAT Scan, and for as hard of a hit as he took, he’s actually pretty lucky. He did sustain a mild concussion, in addition to a gash on the back of his head that had to be stitched, but beyond that seems to have no further brain damage. We are going to monitor him for the next 48 hours, but given that he rests and lets himself heal, he should be okay inside of a month.” 

Relief washes out the worry that had consumed Jason on the ride over before it’s edged out by the anger, hot as an oven. Damn stupid,  _ stubborn  _ kid, always thinks he knows what’s best. He doesn’t ever stop to consider the consequences of his actions, he just has to rush blindly forward and hope he comes out the other side. Jason vows then to rid the kid of that trait as soon as possible, even if he has to beat it out of him. 

Clay’s sleeping by the time they reach his room, face smushed against the pillows. He looks like a little kid, the lines that tell of his age erased, with the blanket clenched in between his fingers. Sonny hesitates in the doorway, fingers tapping against its frame as he watches the rise and fall of Clay’s chest. Ray gently nudges him through, and he exhales a shaky breath as he walks to the end and grips the footboard, knuckles whitening with the force. 

“I really thought...when I saw him lying on that beach..,” Sonny’s voice trails off, and he bows his head and hides his face behind his hand. 

Clay stirs at the noise, eyes fluttering open before slamming shut. The lights are brought down to a gentle glow rather than the harsh fluorescent, which allows Clay to ease down into the bed and unclench his limbs. His lips smack a few times, and his hand searches along the edge of the bed until it reaches the tray beside it. He fumbles for the glass that sits there, at which point Brock gently spoons ice chips into his mouth. 

A few minutes pass with the team watching in entranced silence until Clay shoves the cup away gently. He blinks his eyes open again and winces when he catches sight of Jason with his arms crossed. Considering the order to not cliff-dive had been pretty explicit, Clay’s gotta know he’s in a hefty amount of trouble. The guilty look on his face seems to bear that out. 

There’s not much conversation, with all the guys mindful of Clay’s concussion. He slips back into a drugged sleep shortly after waking, and when the nurse comes in, she informs them in a low tone he probably won’t wake till morning. The guys leave then, with only Jason staying to keep watch, head tipped against the chair and feet kicked up on the edge of Clay’s bed. It’s not the most comfortable position he’s ever slept in, but it’ll do till morning. 

He’s slept in worse places. 

XXXX 

Clay takes a deep breath and squares his shoulder. He’s a Navy SEAL who’s survived sniper school, SERE training, and has operated for at least seven or eight years. This is just another challenge in a long list of them and is actually relatively minor. Although right now, it feels as though he’s staring at Mount Everest, but even Mount Everest can be conquered. One step at a time. 

With a deep, steadying breath, Clay grabs his black remote off the end table and clicks the power button. The deep blue waiting screen appears first, and although lights burst behind his eyes, he doesn’t break his gaze. Next comes the overtly-bright set of ESPN, and pain grips him so tightly he nearly falls out of his chair. A hand snatches the remote and shuts off the game, and the pain subsides into something more manageable. 

Jason clucks his tongue disapprovingly as he sits down on the couch next to Clay, and Clay studies the carpet to avoid his team leader’s gaze. This conversation has been coming for a couple of weeks now, and although Clay has tried his best to dodge it, he knew he couldn’t outrun it forever. 

“So, at what point did you decide the statement,  _ “do not go cliff diving,”  _ had any wiggle room?” 

Clay gulps a little, because while on the surface Jason’s tone appears placid and easygoing, underneath lies a world of anger and disappointment. 

“Um...after we’d had a few.” 

“Oh. Interesting. So not only did you decide to deliberately disobey me, you decided to do it while  _ drunk?”  _

__ “Yeah, pretty much.” 

Jason nods, and an uncomfortable silence settles over them. Clay occasionally steals a glance at Jason but finds nothing in the older man’s expression. 

“You know you’re grounded, right? Two months. You go nowhere except work and home. You ever try to sneak out, and you’ll find whole new meanings to the words ‘ _ house arrest’.  _ Read me?” 

Clay nods and feels a slight bit of relief. He’d honestly expected to get grounded for a whole damn year, so two months feels like a bit of a reprieve. Jason must pick up on some of what he feels because the older man’s mouth twists into a sadistic smirk. 

“That will start  _ after  _ I beat you silly, you know.” 

Clay’s stomach  _ drops.  _


End file.
